


saving me

by loserrobin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Cop!Jon, Coroner!Sam, Corruption, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Police, Police Brutality, Police corruption, Violence, corrupt cop, emotional abuse by a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserrobin/pseuds/loserrobin
Summary: Concept : Three times Jon saves Sam and one time Sam saves Jon.Setting : Modern AU / Coroner!Sam & Officer!Jon.Warning : Bullying, non-extreme depictions of violence, police corruption, injury, non-descriptive emotional abuse by a parent, angst, a little fluff.Word Count : 1450.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Samwell Tarly
Kudos: 22





	saving me

> 1\. BULLIES.

Sam is an easy target.

The older kids like to mock him and slap the back of his head as they walk by. All he can do is lower his head and hope they’ll leave him with minimal damage. Today, however, one of them won’t leave him alone, tripped him twice when he tried to walk away.

“Why don’t you fight back, huh?”

Sam doesn’t get a chance to say anything before he’s pushed hard, landing on the hard pavement. He suppresses a whimper, his hands smarting at the impact. “S-Stop!”

“So he does speak!” A boot knocks him flat down on the ground, digging into the middle of his back. “Weakling! Weakling!”

There’s heavy footsteps and a voice shouting,” Leave him alone!”

The sound of a scuffle and at first Sam is too afraid to look. When he does look up, he recognizes his savior as Jon Snow from physics class. He glimpses a fist being thrown, a hard push and his bully is running away with his tail between his legs. Jon turns to him and offers a hand, grim concern written on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I think so,” Sam’s voice is shaky, knees wobbly.

“Jackass,” mumbled under a breath. “I’m-”

“Jon.” Sam realizes a little late that it might seem weird he knows that. “We have a class together. Physics. We sit a row apart.”

The small curve of a smile brightens Jon’s face. “I remember. You’re Sam. Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“No way,” Sam is quick to say,” you’re my hero.”

> 2\. FAMILY.

“You’re an asshole.”

Jon is the bravest person Sam knows. He could never work up the nerve to tell someone they’re being an ass to their face, certainly not his own _father_.

Randyll Tarly’s face turns the shade of a ripe tomato, lips thinning until they are pinched white. Sam worries violence is to come, but all his father has are seething words. “How **_dare_** you disrespect me in my home. Get out! Get **_out_** , and take my wretched, useless son with you!”

It stings, it always had. Rejection of Sam’s choice in career, his interest in books, how he couldn’t throw a proper punch, the fact that he was friends with an outcast just like him.

“I’ll take him,” Jon stubbornly declares, grabbing onto Sam’s hand. “And fuck you if you think I’ll be letting him come back to this hell hole.”

There’s more outraged sputtering, and Dickon glares as if a guard dog waiting on command. Sam doesn’t dare linger, pulling Jon behind him as they leave the house, uncaring of packing a bag or getting his things while everything is boiling. Maybe he will be able to return when his father is at work and Dickon gets sent away to do his army training. His mother will help, but he’s afraid to face her tears, feeling like a disappointment for getting kicked out, for not being the son he was expected to be.

He gets into Jon’s pickup, flinches when the door slams shut. They’re off, not looking back, silent as they weave inbetween traffic. Sam feels awful for making Jon witness that, to feel the need to step in.

Jon must sense his gloom, because he’s reaching across the center console to grab and squeeze his hands. His mouth is set in a grim line, eyebrows furrowed, determination set in his eyes. “You’ll stay with me. You don’t have to go back. I’ll get your stuff later, promise.”

Sam swallows thickly, grateful for the support. He doesn’t want to let Jon’s hand go, but neither are pulling away. He doesn’t know what he’ll do now for money or food or anything he needs. Jon will help him, he knows, a little guilty. Somehow he’ll pay his friend back.

> 3\. CORRUPT COP.

“Fucking squealer.”

Janos Slynt, four years on the force, knows where to punch when he wants it to hurt. The mouth is a painful area, glee written all over his face when a lip splits, a bruise beginning to take shape, blotching along a chin. Sam tongues at the right side of his mouth, a loose tooth aching along with his jaw.

“What did you tell him,” Alliser Thorne hisses, jerking the hair in his hand harshly, baring a throat to the taser he wields, a clear threat. “What did you tell that bastard?”

“Nothing,” he croaks, throat and tongue tasting iron. “I told him nothing.”

“He’s a fucking liar!”

“Shut up, idiot. If you want the truth, start breaking his fingers.”

Sam can feel the rise of bile curdling up from his stomach. He’s never dealt well with pain, but he can’t tell them Jon knows anything or he’ll be next. Whatever happens to him means nothing compared to the guilt he’ll feel for dragging his bestfriend in this.

This was his own mistake and Jon has helped him enough. He’d seen him through college, twisting his doubt into hope, came to his graduation from medical school just as Sam had been there for Jon’s from the police academy. Their lives were going great until Sam made the connection between a cop’s bullet and a murder victim.

Jano’s grin twists into something sinister, moving away to grab a new weapon. Sam doesn’t have to wait in anticipation for long, the gleam of a hammer catching his eye. He can’t keep the whimper locked behind his teeth, only adding to his kidnapper’s joy. He trembles, flinching back instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go strapped to a wooden chair.

“Hold still -”

“Wait,” Alliser interrupts, shushing them both. “You hear that?”

A thump, then another, and the sound of splintering wood. The rush of footsteps down a hallway and voices, at least five, shouting. Relief floods Sam, however, abruptly halted by despair when the taser is pressed tighter against his throat.

The moment Jon sees him, he freezes. It’s quiet outside the doorway, but no one is fooled.

Hardened black stone assesses the scene. “Let him go.”

“You don’t get to make demands, Snow.”

A gun raises, no hesitation. “Put the weapons down and back away.”

“Know how to use that, Snow? What happens if we cut your honey first?”

A long pause.

One wrong movement is all there needs to be, a gunshot, and everything is a blur of noise. Hours later, Sam will stop shaking, face pressed into Jon’s shoulder, whispering _thank you_ ’s.

> +1. INJURY.

Circles of light, like bubbles, fill Jon’s vision as he wakes. He’s seeing double, but after a few blinks, his vision rights itself. The first thing he notices are the beige walls, the next a steady beeping, turning his head to see a vital monitor. There are wires connected to his arm and he realizes that he’s in a hospital bed. Trying to get his fingers to work, creaky and stiff, Jon finds the nurse call button.

He has trouble talking to the nice girl, Gilly, checking over him. He asks for _Sam_ , where is _Sam_ , what happened to _Sam_? Her smile is sweet and promises to find him.

During the time he’s left waiting, mind foggy, he tries to piece together the events that led him here. He remembers Sam going missing, a frantic voicemail left on his phone. Jon had his suspicions knowing Sam had expressed concern over his last autopsy report regarding a murder. It turned into a mess neither were prepared for, a stand-off ending in a gunfight. He’d fired off two rounds into that shitstain Slynt, but Alliser was packing, surprising him with a return shot that ripped a hole into his side.

All he could think about was _Sam_. Was he okay? Had he taken a stray bullet?

“Jon!”

Finally he can focus, staring up into Sam’s relieved face, shadowed with worry. Hesitant fingers shift the fringe of curls falling into his eyes, feeling across his forehead. The touch is welcome, skin cool against his own. It’s nice, everything is nice now that Sam is here.

“You had me scared half to death. The doctors weren’t sure if…”

A lip wobble makes his own lips move. “M’okay. Nurse said she got you. Wanted to see you so bad. You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Strangled laughter leaves Sam’s quivering lips, eyes going watery. “You took a bullet for me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up. I don’t know what I would **do** if you hadn’t…”

Jon finds enough strength to lift a hand, trailing fingers down Sam’s cheek in a way he hopes is comforting. He wants to sit up and hug him, kiss the fear and anguish away.

For now all he has are half-slurred words. “Always come for you.”

“I know,” is whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you've read, check out my profile and other works! I'm thinking of opening requests. If you're interested, message me on twitter or tumblr @loserrobin.


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